<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>smoke. by sniikt</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25077412">smoke.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniikt/pseuds/sniikt'>sniikt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last of Us</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Recreational Drug Use, as in: getting high with ur bf joel on his couch bc eugene gave him some joints!!, ignoring everything about pt2 except eugene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:26:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25077412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniikt/pseuds/sniikt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>eugene is a bro. and bros lend bros joints so they can get high with their girlfriend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joel (The Last of Us)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>smoke.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>joel got high with eugene in his weed/sex den that is all</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The date Joel surprises with you most is the date that he later insists was not a date.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tells you to meet him at his place after you’re done with work for the night, and when you show up at his house he answers the door, surprisingly, in sweats. It’s the most casual he’s ever looked for a date, but you also can’t say you don’t love the way he looks in a pair of grey sweatpants and a slightly too tight white t-shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” he says, swinging the door wider, and giving you a kiss as you pass him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’re struck--not for the first time--by how nice his house is. The windows are all open, letting a nice breeze push through the house. Pictures line the walls--one of the two of you at a dance on the bookcase, a portrait drawn by Ellie on the mantle of the fireplace. His shelves are lined with books--all of which either he or Ellie has read, he told you once. (“‘y really think I just put books up there for the hell of it?” He’d grumbled, and you gave him a kiss, assuring him you were sure he was very well read.) Various wood carvings decorate the room too--a star he’d made when he was just getting back into the hang of things (you remembered him bringing that one to guard shifts occasionally), a largemouth bass (he was a fan of fishing, something that immensely bored you and Ellie, but you would both tag along anyway), and a doe with her fawn (he was particularly proud of that one), sit on the shelves. A moose painting hangs over the fireplace, next to the big TV he’d fixed up by some miracle and the wall of window seats dotted with cozy pillows. A glass table sits in the center of the room, and a comfy couch with a soft blanket thrown over it sits across from the TV. It feels like...home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joel grabs your hand and pulls you toward the couch, and you follow him willingly. “Got somethin’ from Eugene yesterday,” he says a boyish half grin on his features, and you eye him suspiciously. “Look--here.” He pulls a bag out of the pockets of his sweatpants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You choke on air--in the bag are two joints. When you manage to recover, you laugh, something about the ridiculousness of Joel and joints throwing you off. “‘S that a joint in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” You say finally, and Joel laughs--deep and real, a sound that always sweeps you off your feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why can’t it be both?” He asks, before leaning in to kiss you. You press a hand to his chest, thinking, probably not for the last time, about what a godsend that thin, tight, white t-shirt was. “Here,” he says, opening the bag and handing you one, and then taking out the other for himself. He grabs a lighter off the coffee table and flicks it open, offering the flame to you.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You want to laugh again--here you are, getting high with your boyfriend, like you’re both back in high school, and not adults in the middle of an apocalypse. But what the hell, right? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joel lights your joint and then his own, and you take a deep inhale, your mouth and lungs filling with a long forgotten earthy taste. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You hadn’t realized you had missed getting high until now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘s good right?” Joel says, humming and stretching out on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table (something he always grumbled about Ellie doing).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where the fuck did you even get a joint at?” You ask, taking another long drag, and then leaning into his side comfortably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Told you. Eugene.” He breathes, moving the joint back and forth between his fingers before looking down at you fondly, and you grin up at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, well, where the fuck did Eugene even get a joint at? He’s like eighty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joel snorts, a little smoke escaping his nose as he does. “He’s seventy. ‘n he grows it. You know the library up by the lodge that we always thought was all locked up? He got it all cleaned out ‘n cleaned up. ‘s got a whole lil bedroom ‘n office ‘n workroom now. He’s growin’ the weed down in the basement.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You laugh, tracing absentminded shapes on Joel’s arm before taking another deep inhale. “Where’d he even get weed from? Or learn how to grow it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How the fuck ‘m I supposed to know?” Joel says, taking a strand of your hair into his hands to play with comfortingly. “‘M not askin’. ‘N ‘m sure as hell not askin’ about where he got the mint condition porno’s either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You choke, burying your face in Joel’s shoulder at the image of Eugene and pornos. “Joel, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘m not joking!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you’re not! It’s just...he’s seventy, Joel. And constantly high, it sounds like. How the fuck is he even still...getting it up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘M not asking that either.” He says, with a laugh, and then presses a kiss to your head. You can feel him smiling against your hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>